Word Dancer Three

Three
September 1994 Continues


Journalism was sixth period and today it started with a staff meeting. I knew these kids.

There were the editors that had been with me the previous year.

Over half of the new recruits had me in ninth grade English the previous year. They were now sophomores and had earned A’s from me in English. None of them had ever been tardy to class. None of them had ever turned an assignment in late. All of them had completed the homework assigned. They seldom were out sick. If they needed help, they asked for it. If I allowed them to do an assignment over to improve a grade, they did. I could depend on them and before the year was out they all proved my judgment was sound. Kids with good study habits seldom change. Their parents were the ones I saw on parent conference night.

“Journalism is an elective,” I said. “No one is required to take this class to graduate. What is the benefit?”

“To become better writers. To help us do better in college.”

“Thank you, Hanna,” I said. “That’s right.” Hanna was a junior and was one of Jia’s friends. Jia had talked her into joining. I had a lot of confidence in Jia’s judgment. Next year Hanna would be the sport’s editor, and she would win awards at JEA competitions.

“It also adds to our transcripts so we have a better chance to get into the college of our choice,” Todd said. These students didn’t need to raise hands to ask questions or participate. They didn’t need a babysitter to watch over them.

“Thank you, Todd.” I waited for a moment. The room was quiet. No one was talking. Everyone was paying attention. It was difficult to tell they were even breathing.

“This meeting is about deadlines,” I said. “Deadlines are important for a newspaper and a nightmare for reporters.” This meeting was only for the new reporters. Jia had asked me to talk to them because some of the reporters hadn’t turned in rough drafts yet. The final draft was due at the end of the week. There were eight computers at the back of the room, one for each editor and one for the reporters. If an editor’s computer was free, a reporter was allowed to use it.

“How can it be a nightmare?” Bobby said. “All we have to do is turn things in on time. What’s hard about that?”

“You’re right, Bobby, but sometimes a reporter can’t make a deadline. Anyone that misses three deadlines in a row will be dropped from the class.” I indicated the editors working on their layouts at the back of the room.

“Jia,” I called. She turned around. “When an editor is depending on a reporter to make a deadline so she can finish her page, who suffers when a piece isn’t turned in on time.”

“The editor.”

“I don’t understand,” one of the reporters said.

“The editor plans her page around every story assigned. If a story doesn’t come in, that leaves a hole in the layout. The page can not be finished if a story is missing. If needed, the editor will write a substitute piece on the spot to make the deadline for her page. The date for the final boards to be picked up by the printer is already scheduled. There is no excuse to miss that deadline for reporters and editors. That’s why we fire people that can’t make a deadline.”

“This class is like a job,” another reporter said.

“That is the way it should be,” I replied. “This paper pays its own way by selling ads. Those computers and printers were paid for by ads and students went out and found those ads. When we compete at JEA write offs, the money for the entry fee comes from the ads we run in the paper. We are a business. The only difference is, you don’t earn money. You earn a grade on your transcripts to help you qualify for the college of your choice. You also learn how to write better.”

“Cool,” a voice said. “I’ve never been in a class like this before. It’s almost like we are in charge.”

“Almost,” I said. “Some of you haven’t turned in your rough drafts to the editor-in-chief yet. It is her responsibility to get them to me so I can edit, grade and clear them for a final draft. After I finish with the rough, the story belongs to the page editor and you all must get the final draft to them on time.”

“But the rough draft deadline isn’t until this Friday.”

“That’s my deadline. You also have an earlier rough draft deadline to your page editor. They like to check what you’ve written before I see it. And they might ask for rewrites. You were told about this during the story board for the paper before the school year started. I suspect some of you weren’t paying attention and forgot.”

“We don’t have enough computers and some of us don’t have computers at home.”

“The library has a computer lab. They don’t close until five-thirty. The librarian has reserved some of the computers for you”

As soon as the meeting finished, half of the reporters left for the library.

Jia stayed after class to have me look over her page layouts for the opinion section. Afterwards, we talked about the new staff. “What should we do about the reporters. There are more of them than stories in the next issue?”

“Have them compete. Assign more than one reporter to a piece. The section editor, with your approval, decides which piece is the best one to get published.”

“If a reporter gets rejected, that could be depressing,” Jia said. “They might drop out.”

“True, but that’s the way life is outside of school. Everyone can’t be successful. School should be the place where kids learn how to survive in the real world. If they can’t take it here, how are they going to make it out there. Anyone that doesn’t like the way we do things is welcome to leave, but I’ll talk to them first.”

* * * *

“Get your fucking hands off of me, Sergio,” Maria said. “I don’t want a massage.”

“Come on, let me give you a massage,” Sergio said. His hands were still where Maria didn’t want them—on her shoulders. He was behind her. He had followed her into the classroom. There was still four minutes left until the tardy bell rang.

“Sergio, do as Maria asks,” I said, and his hands fell away. As Maria walked by, I said, “Watch the language, please. I don’t talk like that around you, and I expect you to do the same.” She nodded. Sergio followed Maria to her desk.

“Get away from me,” Maria said.

One of the topics Mr. Gold had discussed during the responsibility assembly had been sexual harassment. “Maria,” I said. I waved a referral in the air where she could see it. Her face clouded.

“You aren’t going to write a referral on me. I didn’t do anything. I promise not to use the ‘F’ word again.”

“I know that, Maria. If you tell him to stop and he doesn’t, that’s considered sexual harassment. I’ll write him up and send him to the office, but you have to tell me to do it. You have to be willing to sign the complaint.”

She stopped and I could tell by her expression that she liked it. “Naw, not this time,” she said. “I like Sergio. He’s cute. He makes me laugh, but I don’t like him in the way he wants. I’ll give him a break this time.” Then she turned to Sergio. “But next time, I’m going to complain and Mr. Lofthouse is going to throw your cute ass out of his class. Keep your hands off of me, Sergio.”

“You think my ass is cute.” Sergio looked hopeful.

She rolled her eyes. “I think a baby’s ass is cute too,” she said. “I’m not going to change your diapers for you. I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s a senior.”

The tardy bell rang, and I closed the door. The sponge activity started. It was Sergio’s job to turn on the overhead since his desk was next to it. He always wanted to help even if he didn’t do half of the class work.
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See My Splendid Concubine, historical fiction by Lloyd Lofthouse
“I was struck by the beauty of the cover, and I certainly was not disappointed by the book’s contents. A fascinating illumination of nineteenth-century Chinese culture and the complex Englishman Robert Hart, the father of China’s modernization. Hart’s struggles adapting to Chinese culture, always feeling the pull and force of his Victorian British background, are compelling. His relationships with his concubine and his concubine’s sister are poignant—the novel is as much a study of the complexities of love as it is anything else. A powerful novel whose beauty exceeds that of the book’s cover.” Writer’s Digest judge, 2008

Watch the author of My Splendid Concubine talk about his novel.